


Made to Break

by sohapppily



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Dennis Has Big Feelings, M/M, brief appearances from the rest of The Gang, especially after season 14, this is just unabashed navel gazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:49:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21567160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohapppily/pseuds/sohapppily
Summary: Dennis had spent countless hours running through scenario after scenario in his head, trying his hardest to solve them with daydreams and algorithms. The solution he’d come to was simple: Provide just enough affection and emotional support to make Mac malleable and willing to do anything. And then give Mac everything he’d been wanting for the past twenty-something years and get everything Mac wanted to give him in return. His decades of carefully planned manipulation and expert psychological conditioning were about to pay off. So why, he wondered, was he so nervous?
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Comments: 15
Kudos: 89





	Made to Break

**Author's Note:**

> broke: going to therapy  
> woke: writing dennis pov fic
> 
> this was supposed to be a quick post-season 14 “uh oh dennis has feelings” coda, but then it got really long and dark and extremely navel gaze-y because i unfortunately also have feelings. some of it takes place before season 14, some during, some after. it’ll (hopefully) be clear in the narrative when is when.
> 
> we got so many macdennis crumbs this year, i had to make something of them. i’ve shipped them for 12 years now. i've been rotting in this hellhole since that first "i love you" in the gang gets held hostage. if rcg won’t free me from this prison i’ll free my goddamn self. fuck em. (just kidding i love you rcg never leave me.)

It was fear that got Dennis off the hardest.

Fear was the easiest emotion to see in someone’s eyes, he’d learned. Fear as his bedroom was suddenly bathed in red light and a lock clicked into place. Fear as he slowly pulled a small handful of zip ties out of an otherwise inconspicuous duffle bag. Fear as the unending and dizzying blackness of open water stretched out toward the horizon on a freezing and starless night. 

He could identify it right away. Breath would quicken, eyes would widen, tears would well up and, occasionally, if he got lucky, slide down along flushed cheeks. He’d step closer and hear a racing heart, hammering against the inside of a ribcage that would soon be under him.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he’d purr as he gently laid a hand somewhere on their body, and it almost always had the opposite effect.

Fear is what he was going after. It was an aphrodisiac. For him, anyway.

The fear in Mac’s eyes is what he savored the most. It was subtle, not caused by the threat of hypothetical danger, but by his own beliefs. Fear of judgment. Fear of God. Fear of how Dennis made him feel.

All Dennis had to do was move in close, strategically lay a hand on Mac’s face, call him _baby boy_ in the softest voice he could, and look down at trembling lips. Mac’s brown eyes would go soft and wide, terror brewing in his dilated pupils as they darted from looking at Dennis and looking away. If Dennis stared long enough, he could almost see the hellfire licking at the edges of Mac’s thoughts.

“Come _on_ , Mac,” Dennis would whisper. Or, “Do this for _me_ , Mac.” Or, “It would make me _so_ happy, Mac.” Whatever he needed to say to get the resolve to break, to watch the fear in Mac’s eyes give way to subservience as he whispered, “Okay.”

It was something Dennis thought about much more than he’d like to admit, late at night when he was alone with only his thoughts and his hand. The fact that, such a short distance away, just through the living room, laid a man who would do absolutely _anything_ for, with, or to him. Dennis’s wish would be Mac’s command.

Many times, on late-night trips to the refrigerator, Dennis would hear ragged breathing and muffled whining sounds coming from the other side of Mac’s door. He’d gotten into a habit of stopping to listen, waiting with bated breath to hear the word he knew Mac would say.

_“Dennis!”_

Every time.

Every single time, Dennis heard his own name, sometimes gasped, sometimes yelled, sometimes choked. And every single time, it was nearly impossible not to open the door and show Mac that the real thing was a thousand times better than what he was pretending he had.

 _No_ , he would think to himself. _Savor it. The longer you make him wait, the better it’ll be._

He could practically see it.

Mac would freeze, absolute mortification gripping every cell in his body. The sudden flood of terrified adrenaline and cortisol would immediately overthrow his post-orgasm glow of endorphins and oxytocin, sending his brain into a panicked frenzy of emotional turmoil. Blood would rush to his cheeks, his hands would shake, he’d try to stutter out some half-assed explanation for why he’d said Dennis’s name as he hastily arranged his sheets over his half-naked body. Hot tears would well up, making his blown eyes glisten in the glow of the streetlights coming through the bare window. He’d whisper an apology as Dennis strode into the room, and Dennis would accept it, but only if Mac did exactly as what he said. Mac would nod timidly, and a single tear would slide out of the corner of his eye.

“ _Fuck_ , Mac,” Dennis grunted, his hips bucking erratically as he unloaded into the woman below him.

“What did you just call me?” she asked, and Dennis internally winced at her thick Philly accent as he pulled out.

“Huh?” he asked, rolling off her and onto his back.

“You just called me Mac,” she said. “Who the fuck is Mac?”

Dennis didn’t say anything. It wasn’t his fault she’d been so goddamn boring in bed that he’d had to let his mind wander elsewhere. But why, he wondered, had it wandered to Mac?

“Oh, shit, wait,” the woman started. “Isn’t Mac your fatass roommate? Yeah, earlier when he was being all weird out in the kitchen, he definitely said his name was Mac.”

Dennis felt his jaw tighten and his cheeks heat up. He was getting embarrassed, and he hated it. He spat, “So what if it is?”

The woman laughed once – a horrible, honking sound that made Dennis physically cringe – and began to get out of his bed. “ _Yikes_ , man. Thinking about your roommate while you’re fucking me is a _huge_ red flag.”

“Who said I was giving you any flags?” Dennis mumbled, staring intently at his ceiling.

“You know, it’s 2011,” she said. “You can, like, be gay.”

“I’m not fucking gay,” Dennis replied, his voice sounding mildly frantic in his own ears.

She laughed again as she finished pulling on her clothes. “Whatever. You should figure that shit out. And don’t call me in the meantime.”

It was Dennis’s turn to laugh. “I wasn’t planning on it. You’re a shit lay.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t so great yourself,” she replied. Before she left the room, she turned back to him and sneered, “Have fun with your roommate.”

“Whatever, bitch,” Dennis mumbled, but she was already gone.

* * *

Dennis didn’t know how long he intended to wait. He didn’t know how long he intended to savor the chase, seeing how needy and compliant he could get Mac before finally giving him what he was so appealingly desperate for. It only seemed to get more intense as the years went on, and as Mac found it harder to lie to himself. He was working his way toward the closet door, but Dennis knew he’d never really come out. Dennis was sure he’d always have more time to lead Mac on, to get him to the brink of absolute insanity before making a move for real.

And then his time was up.

“No, I think I’m out now. Yeah, I’m… _I’m gay_. Actually feels pretty good.”

Mac’s bike creaked loudly as he rolled it out of the arbiter’s office, but Dennis could barely hear it over the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears.

The rest of the gang spoke, equal parts shocked and relieved, but Dennis wasn’t paying much attention. A thousand different emotions coursed through his veins at the same time, and he didn’t know what to make of any of them.

All he knew was that nothing from here on out would be the same. Whether that was good or bad remained to be seen.

“I guess I’m happy for him,” Dennis said quietly, unable to keep his face from twisting into a scowl.

* * *

Bass pounded in Dennis’s ears, almost shaking his shitty headphones as they played the same song for what felt like the hundredth time that night. He stared at himself in the mirror in Dee’s living room, trying his hardest to perfect the body roll he’d been working on for his and Charlie’s strip routine. He pushed out his chest and pulled back his hips then tried to reverse the motion as fluidly as he could, still unsatisfied with the way he moved, and irritated by the corner of his Walkman digging into his stomach.

He turned to watch himself from a new angle, and something in his periphery caught his eye. Mac. Standing in the bedroom doorway. Staring directly at him.

Unfortunately for Dennis, old habits die hard.

He locked his gaze with Mac’s, then raised his eyebrows as he continued to gyrate his hips. Mac turned to look behind him, seeming to disbelieve that Dennis could be looking at _him_. Dennis took this opportunity to change his choreography, quickly thrusting his hips against the air, and felt a rush as Mac visibly gulped.

Dennis glided across the room, never breaking eye contact, and moved in close. Mac’s soft, brown eyes went wide, which Dennis expected. What he didn’t expect, however, was the genuine joy he saw there. There wasn’t an ounce of the fear Dennis had grown so accustomed to seeing. Grown fond of seeing, even.

A smile split Mac’s face as he leaned in closer, and Dennis slammed the door closed.

Through the slats, Dennis heard Mac let out a shaky exhale, and Dennis didn’t do the same until he’d heard Mac’s footsteps plod toward the bed and the springs creak as he crawled back into it.

He walked slowly over to the couch, then ripped off his headphones. Not bothering to pause the tape, he extracted the Walkman from his waistband and let the entire apparatus drop to the floor.

Just like that, he realized his little game wasn’t fun anymore. Suddenly the stakes were different. Mac wasn’t safe for Dennis to toy with anymore. Light touches and whispered pet names and antagonistic seduction would take on an entirely new meaning. All those years of bending Mac to his will would come back to bite in the worst way.

Mac would expect reciprocation that Dennis couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ give.

“Fuck,” he whispered, because what else was there to say?

* * *

Things changed.

Dennis laid on his back in Mac’s bed, not daring to look away from the ceiling. He could see Mac in his peripheral, gazing lovingly back at him. Mac reached out to pick a piece of lint off Dennis’s hoodie, but when he retracted his arm, he left it pressed against Dennis’s. Never in his life had Dennis been more hyper aware of a physical touch.

“I want what’s in your pants,” Mac whined, pointing at Dennis’s crotch, and for a brief moment, Dennis wanted to give it to him.

Mac reached toward Dennis, trying to pull him on to the makeshift stage that had overtaken Paddy’s and into Dee’s spotlight in hopes of getting a kiss. Dennis could still taste Charlie’s rancid cheese breath on his tongue, but he was even more repulsed by the thought of the first time he kissed Mac being on anyone’s terms but his own. Especially if those terms were Dee’s.

Strong arms swept his feet off the concrete of the basketball court and pulled him against an even stronger chest. Dennis nuzzled his head against Mac’s cheek, knowing he could play the action off as sickness-induced delirium but really just wanting to be closer to the man already holding him so close.

“No,” Mac said simply, placing Dee’s EpiPen on the dinner table as she writhed breathlessly on the floor, and Dennis couldn’t help but marvel at Mac’s willingness both to defy a direct order and to let someone die simply to impress him. He couldn’t help but imagine what other extremes Mac would go to just to make him happy.

“There’s going to be another live feeding,” Mac said timidly, and Dennis felt a thrill run down his spine. He turned to look at Mac, and felt another thrill at the pure desperation he saw in the other man’s eyes. A new kind of desperation than before. Not a desperation to get out of the situation, but one to further it. It was surprisingly pleasant.

* * *

> **MAC  
>  ** _I just want what’s best for U and to make sure u are happy… I love you so much… like a good friend would love another good friend. Not in a gay way though… even though I am gay. Actually, I am really gay. But not for you necessarily. I just like alot of your qualities as a man._

Dennis had lost track of the number of times he’d read Mac’s text as he laid in bed, exhausted from their day at the zoo. Over and over, he couldn’t stop reading it. He wasn’t sure why, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint the series of emotions he felt every time.

“I want to make sure you are happy.” Gratefulness for a friend who cared about him, but annoyance at the clingy ways Mac showed it.

“I love you so much.” Equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

“I just like a lot of your qualities as a man.” Dennis liked a lot of Mac’s qualities, too. But any time he showed it, any time he gave Mac an inch of approval or praise, the unfettered joy and affection that was given back made Dennis wish he’d never said anything.

* * *

Dennis sat in the bar, long after the police and news crews had cleared, but shortly after the rest of the gang had dispersed. He stared at the easel set up in the middle of the floor, reading the words to himself.

 **COULD HE?  
** **+  
** **WOULD HE?  
** **+  
** **SHOULD WE?  
** **=  
** **ANSWER!**

When Dennis wrote the words and when he was explaining them, they had applied to Bryan O’Brien. But the more he looked at them now, the more he couldn’t help but apply them to his own life and the confusing gauntlet of emotions his brain had concocted.

**COULD HE?**

Could Mac love him, even after everything Dennis had put him through? After all the teasing, all the manipulating, all the insults, all the bullshit? Despite all of that, despite how awful Dennis had been, could Mac _really_ still love him?

Could he love Mac? Could he ever move past his initial, knee-jerk reaction of _NO WRONG STOP DON’T_ any time Mac so much as touched him? Could he ever open up enough to let _anyone_ love him?

**WOULD HE?**

Would Mac actually want to be with him? Or is Mac just so infatuated with the _idea_ of being with Dennis that the real thing wouldn’t live up to his decades of imagining? Would Mac grow to resent him when Dennis didn’t show enough affection? Would Mac be the one to break up with him?

Would he actually want to be with Mac? Would he be able to accept the intense and ferocious love Mac would undoubtedly bestow upon him? Would he even want it once he had it?

**SHOULD WE?**

Should we stop this stupid dance? Should we be honest for once in our piece of shit lives? Should we give this a try? Should we risk thirty years of friendship and take a chance?

**ANSWER!**

Dennis wished more than anything that he had one.

* * *

A storm of lasers rained down on Big Mo, and Dennis couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

“OKAY!” Big Mo yelled eventually, and the gang ceased fire. “Chill! You got me! Jeez, what are you guys, like, 50? What are you even _doing_ here?”

“I am not 50, you little shit!” Dee shrieked.

“We’ve been playing laser tag since before you were even born, bitch,” Mac snarled.

“Yeah!” Charlie added enthusiastically. “And we’re in our 40s, so.”

“Whatever,” the kid said. “You guys are weird. I’m gonna go get some more chicken wings.”

“Same, kid,” Frank said.

The gang watched as Big Mo silently plodded out of their base, followed by Frank. They looked around at each other for a moment, unsure of what to do now.

Then Charlie started to cheer, and the rest of the gang broke into enthusiastic whooping and clapping. _We did it!_ and _Eat it, Mo!_ and _Holy shit, you guys!_ echoed around Green Base as they slapped each other five and shot lasers into the air. Before Dennis realized what was happening, Mac’s arms were wrapped tightly around him.

“See, Den?” Mac said, his voice soft in Dennis’s ear. “Having fun is way more fun than just guarding the base.”

Dennis snorted as Mac pulled back from the hug and repeated, “Having fun is fun? No shit, man.”

Mac shrugged and gave him a soft smile. “Well, it is. You should try it sometime.”

Their eyes stayed locked, and Dennis allowed himself to really _look_ at Mac. He looked so relaxed, so happy, that Dennis was instantly jealous. He’d spent the whole day so concerned with guarding what he knew, he hadn’t even considered opening himself up to the possibility of something new and exciting, like… _playing_ laser tag.

It was time, he decided, to stop being so guarded.

Dennis smiled at Mac for what felt like the first time in ages and replied, “Maybe I will.”

* * *

Dennis heard the lock of the apartment’s front door click open, and a swarm of butterflies bloomed in his stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever felt this anxious. He adjusted his position on the bed, angling his body in what he believed would be a slightly more appealing way when viewed from Mac’s bedroom door.

It had been two months since Mac had told him to try having fun. Two agonizing months, spending countless hours running through scenario after scenario in his head, trying his hardest to solve them with daydreams and algorithms. The solution he’d come to was simple.

Wait until Mac went out for a night at some gay club. Sneak into Mac’s room. Be in Mac’s bed when he comes home from the club alone, feeling dejected. Provide just enough affection and emotional support to make him malleable and willing to do anything.

And then give in. Give Mac everything he’d been wanting for the past twenty-something years and get everything Mac wanted to give him in return. Finally reap the rewards of a decades-long chase between the world’s most efficient and calculated cat and the world’s most desperate and eager mouse.

The script was set. He knew what to say and what to do. His decades of carefully planned manipulation and expert psychological conditioning were about to pay off.

So why, he wondered, was he so goddamn nervous?

The bedroom door began to open.

What Dennis expected to see was Mac’s sullen face light up upon seeing him. He expected Mac to question what he was doing there, but quickly give up on the answer when Dennis said, “come here, baby.” He expected the entire night to go exactly as he’d meticulously planned.

What Dennis saw was Mac’s back as he stumbled through the doorway with another man pressed against his front, their tongues interlocked and soft noises coming from both of them. Dennis watched in abject horror as the man’s hands ran up and down Mac’s back, then came to rest on his ass as they continued to awkwardly lumber into the room, trying to move as one.

The back of Mac’s legs hit the bed and he fell down onto it with a soft _oof_ , and Dennis managed to pull his feet away just in time. The other man bent down with Mac but broke the kiss. Mac laughed softly, and Dennis watched as the other man went from looking at Mac to looking at him.

“Whoa, who the fuck are you?!” he yelled, springing back.

Mac twisted around, gasping as he saw Dennis curled up against the shelves at the head of Mac’s bed, his face twisted into what felt like a mask of despair.

“Dennis?!” Mac yelled. “What the fuck are you doing in here?”

“Is this, like, a secret three-way or something?” the man asked, backing toward the door. “Because I am _not_ down for that, Mac.”

“No!” Mac said quickly, looking back and forth between them. “No, Luke, this is my roommate. I don’t know why he’s in my room, though. Dennis, _why are you in my room_?”

“My…” Dennis started weakly, and he could feel his cheeks blazing. “My shower was all fucked up… So I came in to use yours…”

“But why are you on my _bed_?” Mac pressed.

“Because…”

Mac raised his eyebrows, clearly incredibly annoyed at the current situation. Dennis looked back to Luke, who looked just as irritated as Mac did.

“I’m so sorry,” Dennis mumbled.

Before anyone could respond, he vaulted off of the bed and rushed to the door. He slammed it behind him, then gripped the fridge to keep from falling over.

“What the fuck was that?” Luke asked from behind the door.

“I don’t know,” Mac said. “I’m sorry, that was so goddamn weird. If you wanna leave, I get it.”

“Nah, I’ll stay.” Luke’s voice got softer, which meant he was walking toward Mac. “Does he do that often?”

“Never,” Mac answered. “But how about we stop talking about my roommate and get back to what we were doing?”

“Sure,” Luke said with a soft laugh. “But does that door have a lock?”

Mac laughed too, and Dennis heard footsteps move toward the door, then a lock click into place.

“There,” Mac said. “We’re safe.”

“Good. Come here, baby.”

Dennis’s heart constricted in a way he hadn’t previously known was possible. Standing there listening to them was tearing him up in ways he’d never experienced, yet he couldn’t move. He was furious and upset and confused and more awash with rejection than he’d ever felt. He felt like he’d lost the ability to function. He was barely able to breathe.

It wasn’t the first time Dennis had lurked outside Mac’s door while someone else was inside. It was usually quiet, boring, and gave Dennis a smug sense of satisfaction, knowing that his sex life was so much better than his friend’s.

This time, it was much different. The sounds coming from Mac’s room were loud and enthusiastic, filled with laughter and sighs and soft sounds and skin slapping against skin. It would’ve turned Dennis on if there weren’t a billion other things going on in his head as he listened. He wanted to get as far away from the sounds as possible, but he couldn’t get his feet to move.

“ _Fuck_ , Luke, you are _so_ good at that,” Mac said, the end of his sentence trailing into a long moan, and Dennis felt his stomach turn.

Hearing another name come from the place where he’d heard his own name so many times, where he should’ve been hearing his name _tonight_ , was the trigger he needed. Without hearing another sound, he bolted away from the kitchen, grabbed his keys and stormed out the front door.

* * *

“Dee!” Dennis yelled, slamming his fist against her door. “Dee, open up!”

The door swung open, and Dennis just barely managed to stop his hand from connecting with her face.

“What the hell do you want?” Dee spat. “It’s almost 2AM.”

“I’m sleeping on your couch,” Dennis replied gruffly, pushing past her to enter the apartment.

“The fuck you’re not,” Dee said. “I have someone coming over.”

“Well, cancel it, bitch,” Dennis countered as he dropped to the couch.

“No!” Dee squawked, then stomped her foot. “Get _out_ , you dick!”

“Dee,” he whispered, looking up at her through watering eyes. “Please.”

Her face softened immediately. “Shit, Dennis. Are you okay?”

“I don’t think so.”

She nodded, then pulled out her phone and sent off a text message. “Okay. You can stay.”

Dennis sighed. “Thanks, sis.”

“What happened?” Dee asked as she sat down next to him.

Dennis shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” she repeated with a short laugh. “Dennis, you’re sitting on my couch crying in the middle of the night.”

“I’m not crying,” Dennis mumbled, but he wiped his eyes with his sleeve anyway. He was disappointed to see a wet smudge of mascara when he pulled his hand back.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Dee said, putting a hand gently on Dennis’s shoulder. “But you can.”

Dennis looked at her, surprised and comforted by the warmth and genuine concern on her face. It was a look he hadn’t seen in a long time, not since they were younger. Back before they’d both gotten so jaded and hardened, before their first instinct was to go for the throat. He was glad to see it again now.

“Mac brought someone home,” Dennis said quietly.

“Oh,” Dee said quietly.

“Oh?” Dennis said back. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied, trailing off.

Dee nodded, then said, “You didn’t really think he’d wait around for you forever, did you?”

Dennis shook her hand off his shoulder and spat, “What are you talking about, Dee?”

She paused. “Isn’t that what you’re upset about? That he’s with someone who’s not you?”

“No!” Dennis yelled, then stood up from the couch. “I’m _upset_ that… That he…”

“That he what?”

Dennis yelled, then put his head in his hands. He was sick of being rendered speechless, of getting embarrassed, of being angry and upset and jealous. He couldn’t make heads or tails of any of the reactions he was having to anything tonight, especially since his careful planning had gone so awry. He just wanted it all to stop. He dug the heels of his hands harder into his eyes, hoping the darkness would swallow every thought that was currently swirling around his head.

Through the darkness, he felt Dee’s bony arm wrap around his shoulders, and gently pull him back down to the couch. He breathed deep, trying to focus on the feeling of her other hand, rubbing small, soothing circles on his knee.

Slowly, he pulled his hands away from his face.

“The reason,” he began, his voice still shaking slightly, “that I am upset, is because Mac brought someone else into our apartment.”

“Yeah, but you bring girls home all the–”

“Dee, please play along,” Dennis whispered, the words all coming out in one rushed breath.

“Okay,” Dee said. “It was very rude of him to bring someone to your apartment.”

“Thank you,” Dennis said. “I know. He should’ve told me he was bringing someone home. That’s the rule.”

“So, you always tell him when you’re bringing someone home?”

“Yes,” Dennis lied.

“And the only reason you’re upset is because he didn’t tell you?”

“Yes,” Dennis lied again.

Dee sighed. “Okay. Well, I’m sorry he broke the rule. That was, uh, really shitty of him.”

“I know,” Dennis concurred.

Dee gave him a sad smile, then stood up. “I’m gonna go to sleep, if that’s okay. Can I get you anything before I do?”

“No thanks,” Dennis said, looking at the floor.

“Hey, Den?”

He looked up.

“Mac’s only gonna keep… breaking the rule. Unless you do something about it.”

“What should I do?”

Dee shrugged. “Give him a reason not to break it.”

Dennis looked at her silently. Normally, he didn’t trust Dee farther than he could throw her. She was the first one to mouth off any secret you told her, or tell the nearest authority figure any time you did anything wrong. But there was a softness to her now, and a long-buried innate twin sense told Dennis he could tell her.

“I was going to,” he admitted. “Tonight. And then he…”

“Oh,” Dee said softly. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you ever seen the guy before?”

Dennis shook his head.

“Well, then maybe it’s just for tonight. And if it’s not, you’ve still got decades on him.”

Dennis nodded.

“You can try again tomorrow,” Dee said. “It’ll mean more when the sun is up, anyway.”

That was exactly what Dennis was afraid of.

* * *

Morning had long broken when Dennis returned to the apartment. He was relieved to see Mac sitting alone at their small kitchen table when he entered, and tried to suppress the strange flutter in his stomach when Mac looked up.

“Dennis,” Mac said, his tone neutral.

“Hey.” Dennis stepped further into the apartment, dropping his keys onto the shelf by the door. “Is, uh… Is anyone else here?”

“No,” Mac replied. “Just us.”

Dennis nodded, but didn’t move.

“Can you sit for a minute?” Mac asked, nodding toward the other empty chair.

Without answering or breaking eye contact, Dennis slowly crossed the room and sat down across from Mac. He still knew what he needed to say. Even if this wasn’t where or when he’d planned on saying it.

“Thank you,” Mac said.

“Mhm.”

They were silent.

“So,” Mac said. “Um. What the hell happened last night?”

Dennis winced. “I told you. My shower was fucked up.”

“Dennis,” Mac said, and his tone was harsher than Dennis had ever heard it before. “For once in your _fucking_ life, can you just cut the bullshit?”

“What?”

“Why were you in my room, Dennis?”

“Because… I…”

Mac grunted in frustration and stood up, flinging his chair behind him. He slammed his palms on the table and yelled, “Just answer the question! _Why_ were you in my _room_ , Dennis?!”

“Because I was waiting for you, asshole!” Dennis yelled back, standing up to meet his gaze. “I was waiting for you to get home!”

“Why?!”

“Because I was going to fuck you!”

Dennis had never heard a louder silence than the one that followed his words. He was getting off track. He needed to get back to the script.

After what couldn’t have been more than seconds but felt like hours, Mac softly said, “What?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Dennis said carefully as he sat back down, trying to achieve the controlled tone he’d practiced. “Since you told me at laser tag that I should try having fun instead of guarding things. Thinking about how I’ve acted. About how I’ve treated you all these years, and how shitty I’ve been to you.”

“Okay…”

“You know that I’ve never been one for relationships, but maybe that’s just because I’ve never tried it with the right person. But… I think I’m… ready now.”

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about?” Mac asked, still glaring down at Dennis. That wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting.

“I’m ready, Mac. To… be with you. I think _you’re_ the right person. I think we’re… _inevitable_.”

Dennis found that saying the words he’d written to Mac rather than to his mirror made them take on a different meaning. Suddenly it felt less like a script, less like a plan, less like manipulation and more like a confession. It had been so easy to come up with the words to say once he’d decided to say them, and he was just now realizing why.

Because he meant them. He meant every goddamn word he’d said.

Dennis stared up at the man in front of him. He waited for something in the hard expression looking back at him to change into one of joy, of relief, of acceptance and love.

But it didn’t.

“No.”

Dennis felt his stomach turn. “Excuse me?”

“I said no,” Mac repeated. “I don’t want that, Dennis.”

“Well, why the fuck not?”

Mac laughed once, the sound of pure disbelief. “Bro, are you serious? It’s not that easy. You don’t get to just… decide.”

“Why not?” Dennis asked again. “Isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for? For me to love you back?”

Mac paused. “Love?”

“What?”

“Love. You said you love me.”

Dennis scoffed. “No I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, the fuck I did not!”

“Okay, are you fucking kidding me, Dennis?” Mac said. “You’re really gonna sit here and tell me you want to be with me then say you _don’t_ love me?”

“When you put it like _that_ …” Dennis mumbled, trailing off.

Finally, Mac sat back down.

“I’m kind of seeing someone,” he said. “Luke. Who you, uh, met last night.”

The words were like a punch to the gut.

“And I’m not gonna just fuck that up just because you’re doing… whatever the hell this is. I’m not gonna just do what you tell me to do.”

“But that’s what you’ve always done,” Dennis said, his voice almost a whisper.

“And that’s the problem,” Mac replied. “I’m not doing that shit anymore.”

Silence, once again. Dennis had never been so lost for words.

“Look,” Mac said eventually. “I’m saying no, but I’m not saying _no_.”

“What?”

“I need you to prove it,” Mac said.

“ _What_?”

“Prove it,” Mac repeated. “If we’re so goddamn inevitable, what’s a little longer?”

Dennis nodded. “What do I have to do?”

“Figure it out.”

“How long do I have to keep proving it?”

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ, dude!” Mac said. “Not everything has to be planned and calculated. I’m not keeping fucking score. Life isn’t a goddamn game, and especially not _this_.”

Dennis didn’t know what to do. He was simultaneously consumed with rage and completely numb. The fact that _Mac_ was rejecting _him_ made no sense to him. He couldn’t comprehend it. He knew, logically, that it was happening. But he couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

Mac was rejecting him.

Without a word, Dennis stood up and began to walk to his room.

“Hey, Den?”

He paused.

“Just so you know, this is how I’ve felt for years.”

Dennis turned around slowly, and was shocked to see tears in Mac’s eyes.

“Every time you shot me down. Every time you slapped my hand away. Every time you lead me on or touched me or called me baby and didn’t mean it. What you’re feeling now is how I felt. Every single time.”

“Really?” Dennis asked.

“Yeah.”

Dennis nodded, clenching his jaw as he tried not to let tears fall. “Well, then, I’m sorry.”

“That’s a good start.”

Dennis watched as Mac stood up and went into his bedroom, then continued toward his own.

As his door clicked closed behind him, Dennis felt a tear slide down his own cheek for the first time in years. He quickly wiped it away, but another appeared in its place. And another. And another. And another.

He collapsed onto his bed, alone, and let them fall.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry this ended on such a dissatisfying note but macdennis is nothing if not consistently dissatisfying. yet here we are.
> 
> keeping this marked as completed but to _possibly_ be continued. no promises.


End file.
